What If
by Spencer JD
Summary: Short little stories, small ideas, and random thoughts will be poured into this. Because someday we all have to consider that "little" question in the back of our minds. What if . . . What if . . . What if, Will died? What if, parts of the original stories were just a cover up for something else? Something . . . Bigger.
1. Falling

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. **

**I guess I'll be updating this whenever. Whenever I happen to scratch something down that I like, I guess I'll throw it in here. :D Also, I'll try to remember the time I write these. Some of the times are comical. That's the number at the bottom. Got it?**

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_"You feel yourself, flying through the air. You can feel yourself flying . . . downwards to meet the earth."_

Will fell. He had failed. He couldn't even protect his own family.

_"All you can think is of how you're just waiting for you death. For your body to come down, and the earth to come up to meet you."_

They're going to die. No . . . Oh, god no.

_"All you can think about, is that in just a few seconds, you won't be thinking. You'll just be gone."_

Will Treaty was stretched out horizontally. His cloak was cushioned up underneath him, making it seem as if he wasn't falling. Oh, but he was.

_"You'll fall, and after all that, you realize that your demise isn't all your thinking about."_

The Ranger didn't feel the pain of the arrow in his shoulder. He didn't feel the pain of the cut in his side. He just lies there, thinking.

_"You're also thinking about them. Your family. Parents, spouses, friends - close or even just mutual - and just family in general. You'd be thinking not just about them, but for them. You're never going to see them again. And their never going to see you again."_

The rocks and sea were getting closer. He could feel it. His doom was coming.

_"And you know what? I think I would mainly be thinking of you. Your smile. Your warm embraces. Your cheeky grin, and your messy hair. Your sarcastic comments, and the just plain stupid explanations for anything and everything you did. I'd miss our long kisses just before bed, and our pointless conversations in the middle of the night when one of us couldn't sleep."_

He closed his eyes.

_"But most of all, I'd just miss __**everything**__ about you. I'd miss you so much. Just as you'd miss me."_

Will let a smile play across his lips in his last moments.

_"You'd miss me, right, Will?"_

Funny how that conversation popped in his mind. Will opened his eyes, looked back that way he had fallen. The edge of the cliff was far above, and people's heads were just visible looking over.

_Yeah_, Will thought, _Yeah, Alyss. I'd miss you. Oh, I'd miss you so much._

Will Treaty, Araluen's most legendary Ranger, felt the world come up. And he didn't feel it anymore, the sensation of falling. He had finished his decent.

**(3:40 - 4:00 am)**


	2. Sorry

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.**

**I'm sorry. I just needed a break from my other stories. I'll get a new chapter up for both soon. :)**

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Dying over than twenty times causes a pattern. After you "die", people expect you to come back. They expect you to always have some miraculous trick up your sleeve - at all times - and to be something near immortal. Well, no. It's not like that.

It's luck. It's chance. It's fate. Call it what you want, but people who "die" twenty times, they, well, they don't actually have any skill, or tricks. People with skills or tricks don't "die" twenty times. In fact, they wouldn't "die". They'd **live**.

I've "died" a few times in my young life. But this time . . . Is different. In the few times I have "died", I've either escaped by chance, or lived by luck. People just thought I was going to die, or never seen again, or something like that. But this time, is not like that. This injury, I don't feel it. I don't feel anything. I don't hear anything. And why can't I see? There's nothing - NOTHING!

I'm . . . Dying. This time . . .I'm actually dying.

_Lying on the ground, in the center of the clearing, Will Treaty lie dying. He doesn't feel. Doesn't hear. Doesn't see. Can't taste, or smell either. But, there still is that other sense he developed during Ranger training._

Footsteps. Someone's coming. Running. Who is it? Friend or foe?

_But now, that sense is even fading. The footsteps grew duller. Softer. Soon, they just become a soft beat in the back of the young Ranger's lingering mind. Replacing the slowing beat of his heart._

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, Alyss, my one, true, love. I'm sorry I'm leaving so early. I'm sorry I'm leaving you alone with a three year old, and another young one on the way. I'm sorry I'm leaving you alone to raise two children. I'm sorry I'm leaving you at all. And I'm sorry I'm leaving you on such bad terms. The last time you saw me, I was leaving our small cottage, after saying to you, "Believe me, you don't need me. If anything, you'd do better on your own. It's always been like that, so why are we trying to fix something when it wasn't even supposed to work?"

I'm sorry, Halt. I'm leaving you, probably wondering about what happened to your apprentice. Why was he driven off to such a dark path? Why didn't he tell you? Why didn't I tell you? Why didn't I tell you the truth!? Why did I lie?! You could've helped! Actually, I didn't even approach you for anything. I should've.

I'm sorry, Horace. I'm sorry. My last words to you were "Horace, I don't need your damn sarcastic comments at the moment. So either shut up, or get the hell away from me." In truth Horace, the last thing I actually needed was you leaving me. You knew that, but knowing it would make me happy, or at least in a better mood, you left me. All I needed was your comfort.

I'm sorry, Gilan, for being such an asshole at the last gathering. I'm sorry, Evanlyn, for completely ignoring you, then yelling at you when you got annoying. I'm sorry, Crowley, for not listening to you - for refusing to even consider listening. I'm sorry, Jenny, George, Duncan. I'm sorry.

I've failed you . . . I've failed all of you . . .

_Even though the Ranger couldn't tell, the running footsteps were drawing closer. But they were too late._

I'm . . . Sorry . . .

_A solitary tear slid down the side of the face of a limp body. A limp body of a Ranger._

_Ranger Gilan burst into the clearing. He had heard a scream. His sword was drawn, and his hood down. But he wouldn't need it. Whoever had been there was gone. All he saw, was a limp body in the center of the clearing, in a pool of blood, wearing cloths that looked all too familiar. The Ranger's uniform. He had found Will._

_But he was too late._

**(1:00 - 1:20 am)**


End file.
